


on the highway of regret

by rikacain



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikacain/pseuds/rikacain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Complacency does things to men, even to the best of agents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the highway of regret

The thing is, Ethan understands. Really, he does.

To be a field agent means getting into dangerous spaces where people will kill you for wanting to find out the things they don't want you to know. Ethan's been on the sharp end of a knife, a gun, a machete and on one memorable occasion of shard of glass from a broken plate, but he could handle himself. The IMF field agent training made damn well sure of that.

But training isn’t everything, and after what has happened with Lindsey Ethan’s more aware of that fact now. He doesn’t try to coddle the newer agents, but if he could he would station them out of danger, so that they could survive a little longer to learn so much more. They might not thank him for the lack of action, but he’d rather them be safe.

Even so, he’s not omnipotent. Especially today.

"Bravo, come in," he says, as he sidles down the walkway.

"Bravo to Echo. Pressure detector on your left," Benji's voice said into his ear. "Just slap the red sticker onto the - yup, right there, the security here is laughably weak, I'm not paid enough for this."

"Benji," Brandt warns over the comm line.

"Focus, right, focus." A little bit of rustling. "Ethan, motion sensor up above, give me a - done. Proceed."

Ethan gives the device a little glance, before continuing on his way.

"This seems a bit too easy," Benji says, disappointment in his voice.

"Don't curse the mission," Brandt replies. "Ethan, you're almost there. Keep a lookout for extra guards."

"There aren't any guards," Benji says disparagingly, "Prickett pays them minimum wage, what a cheapskate, and they honestly don't - whoa!"

Ethan freezes.

"Benji," he says into the comm.

"Ethan, proceed to the office," Brandt says, but there's tension in his voice. "Benji? Benji, come in."

"Brandt," Ethan says.

"Benji's a field agent, he can handle himself," the analyst snaps, but there's an undercurrent of concern. "The faster you get that data, the faster you can go to help him. Go!"

He's loathe to do so, but he forces himself to look forward. With no more Benji in his ear, he keeps his own eyes out for traps. He wouldn't be any good if he got caught.

He finds the office easily enough, and the laptop where Prickett apparently keeps his ledger. The three seconds it takes for the computer to boot up feels like eternity, and Ethan almost considers lugging away the entire laptop.

"Plug the thumbdrive in and run the program," Brandt orders.

Distantly, he can hear the sounds of a scuffle. He waits impatiently (waiting, always waiting, can this thing go any faster?), keeping his eyes tracked on the cheerfully green progress bar. It inches its way towards a hundred percent, and Ethan grits his teeth.

And suddenly, a gunshot, and a familiar cry of pain.

_Benji_ , Ethan thinks. He wants to bolt from here and run to the boiler room where the tech had set up shop, but doing that would compromise the mission and -

The bar hits a hundred. Ethan yanks the thumbdrive out of its port unceremoniously, snaps the laptop's screen shut and runs.

_Pain is good_ , he reminds himself, pushing himself to go faster and faster, pain means Benji is still alive and he could still be saved. The sound of someone grappling against someone else gets louder and louder, and just as Ethan reaches the boiler room's door another gunshot rings out.

"Benji!"

He slams into the door at full velocity, tumbles into the room and brings his gun up at the only person left standing in the room.

Well, standing is not quite the accurate term. It's more of leaning.

"Hey Ethan," Benji smiles weakly against the wall, clutching at his bloodied shoulder. A man lies at his feet, a bullet hole tearing messily through his jaw up into his head. "I think I got it better than the other guy."

"Yeah," he brings his gun down, stepping gingerly over to the other man. "Yeah, you did. Let's get out of here."

"Sounds like a great plan," Benji says right before he slumps bonelessly onto Ethan's waiting shoulder.

"The extraction team is on the way, ETA three minutes," Brandt tells Ethan, his voice distant over the comm.

"Tell them to come faster," Ethan says tersely. He keeps Benji's hand pressed on his wound, and slowly but surely, they make their way out.

* * *

Three hours later, Benji is resting in an IMF-approved hospital. Brandt debriefs Ethan over the phone, berating him half-heartedly over not properly turning the computer off lest Prickett realise that he was compromised, before offering to tell Jane.

Ethan doesn't envy him. Jane would probably be slightly livid. She's worked enough times with Benji to consider him a sort of friend.

He returns to Benji's room, settling in the chair next to the bed. Ethan had assumed that the boiler room was secure, considering how lax the security was. He had assumed many things due to the incredible easiness of the infiltration, had grown too complacent. And even though Benji handled himself well enough to survive, he shouldn’t have been put in a situation where he could have been shot at in the first place.

(He doesn’t examine the part of him that notes wryly that he never puts Benji in danger if he could help it, even on simple in-and-outs. It’s always Benji, safely ensconced away in a small room, acting as eyes and ears.)

(Except for today.)

It isn't until much later that Benji stirs, and Ethan immediately snaps awake.

"Ethan," the man calls out groggily.

"You're in the hospital," he tells Benji, keeping his voice level and calm. "The bullet passed through and through, and didn’t hit any of your bones."

"Awesome," Benji mumbles then hisses in a sharp breath when he attempts to shift himself. Ethan moves to help him sit up. "Should have known that one of them would smoke weed in the boiler room, who would have checked."

Ethan doesn't do Benji the injustice of saying he couldn't have known. They both should have found out, and they were careless. Benji's in the hospital because of their carelessness.

"You should get more rest," he said instead.

"I'll be getting plenty," Benji groans. "Where are you off to next?"

Ethan frowned. "What?"

"The next mission. Haven't they sent you a message yet? The self-destructing one,  _your mission, should you choose to accept it_  -"

“They haven’t,” Ethan says, tactfully ignoring the existence of the compact powder a nurse had passed him as she pretended to bump into him that was in his pocket.

“They’re usually faster than that,” Benji says. “How many hours was I out?"

“Five, six? Maybe some other agents are on it,” Ethan shrugs nonchalantly.

“Maybe they’d do a better job than I would,” the tech mumbles into his free hand, using it to rub at his face.

“Hey. Hey, Benji.” Ethan waits until the man looks up, before continuing, “you did well."

“I’ve a hole in my shoulder,” the man retorts.

“You could have one in your heart right now,” Ethan points out, trying not to imagine Benji spread-eagled on the floor with his eyes looking up at the ceiling, unseeing. “It could have been much worse. No one gets away unscarred in the field."

“I should have,” Benji insists weakly. “Should have took him out before he had the chance to even surprise me. You would have."

“I wouldn’t,” Ethan says, “because I have blind spots, and that’s why you’re here to cover me, Benji.” The agent closes his eyes with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to cover yours."

The tech takes a breath, as if he was about to say something, but then looks away towards the windows instead.

“At least we still have a next time,” Benji finally says.

Ethan nods. "Next time," he agrees and stays even after Benji falls back asleep. He reaches out to gently tousle the sleeping man's hair, to grasp Benji's warm, living hand in his own.

_Next time_ , he thinks, a promise to himself.  _Next time_ .

**Author's Note:**

> Anon on tumblr asked for hurt!Benji and I hope I delivered. Crossposted to tumblr [here](http://http://rikacain.tumblr.com/post/126063530608/god-we-need-some-hurtbenji-fics-in-which-there-is).


End file.
